


Be Cool

by duh_i_read (duh_i_write)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Crack, F/M, Movie Reference, Pretending to be in a Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2010-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duh_i_write/pseuds/duh_i_read
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith is undercover and Andrew has Quentin Tarantino on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Cool

**Author's Note:**

> Post Chosen but not comic compliment. Minor spoilers for the first five minutes of Pulp Fiction. Written for the whedonland non-cannon kissing challenge.

Andrew fidgeted in his seat, the vinyl upholstery sticking to the back of his legs. Across the table, Faith poured sugar into her coffee. He counted one-locomotive-two-locomotive-three-locomotive before she stopped, pursing her lips to blow the stream away.

Sliding down so his calves no longer touched the vinyl, he watched Faith stir her coffee. The urge to talk, about anything, pressed around him like the heat, but Faith didn’t seem to be in a talking mood. Instead, she sipped her drink, lips the exact color of Pop Tart filling. The cherry kind, not the strawberry, which were super gross.

The waitress brushed past balancing a tray high over her head, his eyed her for the trillionth time as she crisscrossed the restaurant.

“He’s not here yet, Faith.”

“He’ll show. Today’s the drop and even if he changed the time we would know. Willow placed so many bugs in that lair they shoulda called Orkin.” Andrew laughed, a high almost-giggle for a few long moments before Faith kicked him.

“Be cool. We're blendin' in until we make our move. That means drinkin' your juice and eating your french toast just like everyone else.” Faith took a slice of said french toast.

“Hey! Get your own.”

“Girl’s gotta keep her strength up.” Faith jabbed at him with the slice of toast.

“But I saw you eat like a pound of Fruit Loops this morning at Central.” Her response was a grin. Frowning, he bent his straw over his fingers. Slayers seem to have an inborn need to eat food clearly not their's. Maybe it came with the super powers.

Behind them, two guys, dressed in faded printed t-shirts and shorts pushed through the glass double doors. Not he-of-the-pretentious-name. Andrew amused himself by thinking up way cooler names to call himself if he headed up a demon mafia.

It hit him. “Oh my god!”

Faith turned her whole body towards the door, hand under the table, no doubt gripping the mini crossbow sticking out of her bag.

“What? Is he here?” She twisted around, searching.

“No, not the demon—this dinner. It looks exactly like the one from _Pulp Fiction_! You know, in the beginning-but-technically-the-middle?”

Faith sat up straight, glaring at him. He stared back in mock-horror.

“Please tell me you’ve seen _Pulp Fiction_.”

“Yeah, I have. Guess I was too busy focused on how relieve some rich ass demon from his doomsday statue. That ranks a little higher then pretending we’re Snookems and Hunnybunny.”

He rolled his eyes. “Umm, correction: it’s Pumpkin and Hunnybunny.”

“Whatever. You can have your nerd moment after we save the world.”

“But we agreed! I’m the distraction. What’s more distracting then a robbery?”

Faith had started to slouch in her seat, but that comment caused her spine to stiffen.

“No way. No fucking way am I gonna sit here while you fake a robbery. I am not going to jail because you want to reenact a gangster movie.”

“You wouldn’t go to jail, we have non-evil lawyers.” One dark eyebrow raised. “Ok less evil lawyers, but you still wouldn’t go to jail. I wouldn’t really take their money.”

“I though your Little Bad days were over,” she said with a smirk.

“They are. Faith, come on! What better way to take the stature without them knowing who. I mean, you outfit fooled everyone.”

With her strawberry blond wig, big black sunglasses and yellow—yellow!—sundress with the brow corduroy messenger bag, Faith looked less like a rebel superhero and more like, well, someone called Hunnybunny.

He should have gotten a Hawaiian shirt to complete the look, but his blue button up over a yellow t-shirt with a teal palm tree was pretty cool too.

Faith kicked him again.

“Ow! What was that—“

 Morningstar walked by the window, flanked by two Goons. Literally. Their horns poked up from under the hoods of their sweatshirts.

“Oh Frak,” he said, touching his own crossbow.

“Showtime,” Faith said, snagging the last bite of toast.

“Hey, I was gonna—“

 Morningstar and his Goons walked in. Andrew ducked his head and grabbed his juice, jabbing the roof of his mouth with the straw. They watched as the trio walked to a thin man in a ratty cardigan in the far corner of the dinner.

“Perfect, right near the back door. I'll text Rona to pull the car around.”

“Faith.” She looked up at him. “Please? I live for moments like this.”

She pulled her glasses down to look over the frame at him.

One locomotive-two-locomotive-three-locomotive.

All of a sudden, a slow smile spread across her face. Faith took out her crossbow and put in the middle of the table. Andrew grinned before doing the same, one hand on the crossbow and the other curled around her hand.

“I love you Pumpkin,” he said.

“I love you Hunnybunny,” she said, before pulling him across the table to push his lips to hers. Their teeth knocked together hard, her tongue trailing the edge of his bottom lip. She started to pull away, scraping her teeth over his lip but he captured her lips again, brushing his nose against hers as he tilted his head in a better angle. Faith had lips like danger, if danger tasted like coffee and sugar and whatever lipstick was made of.

Dazed, he picked up his crossbow as Faith picked up hers. Sliding out of the booth, Faith stood in front of their table.

“Everybody be cool—this is a robbery!”

In a movie, the camera would pan out on her awesomeness—all forceful and in charge, even with the powdered sugar on her chin. He climbed out of his seat to stand on the table, feeling pretty anti-hero cool himself.

“Any of you frakking pricks move and I’ll execute every motherloving last one of you.”

Andrew grinned at the shocked faces. Cue dramatic surf music. Fade to black.


End file.
